


Please make him love me like i do love him

by Unpopularsoftshipper



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Happy Ending, I made some typos i'm sorry, M/M, Memories, No Homophobia AU, One-Sided Attraction (past), Original Character(s), Post-Canon, Robb Stark is a Gift, Robb's son is alive, Romance, Theon is not a jerk, Theon is really old and wise, low key cheesy, no PTSD, no Reek PTSD, overuse of the now and always quote
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 08:39:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17915513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unpopularsoftshipper/pseuds/Unpopularsoftshipper
Summary: “Then, regaining composure, Robb raises an eyebrow. He has a cocky posture and that’s definitely not Robb’s, is more like his old self, Theon’s that’s it.He was an incarnation of Robb Stark, but for a carbon copy he was quite not right. A sharper jaw, cheekbones less defined, softer looking skin, a stronger nose with much more character and, unlike his Robb whose eyes were gentle and as blue as his house of sea and sand, this one had two brown eyes full of curiosity and slight innocence, slight mischief. Aside of that, the hair was one or two shades darker, and the smirk was so out of place for Robb’s sweet face that this kid was surely not him even in Theon’s naughtiest dreams.”Or: Where Theon has a heart-to-heart talk with Robb’s son who never met his father, and Theon recalls his feelings for Robb.





	1. When winter was still here

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, this is my first ever fanfiction and because it was supposed to be a one-shot, the second and third part are terribly short and only to build a good ending. Also, my first language is not english (but actually spanish) so i'm 100% open to suggestions/corrections. And I had a friend read it for me (as my Beta) but still, feel free to comment on mistakes, typos or anything. Also, Throbb is my otp which is why I thought "why not write something with Jeyne/Robb's kid in it?" Even tho the child and Yara's kid are both completely OC. Hope y'all enjoy it and send some love!! <3
> 
> IMPORTANT: _Italics_ are the character's thoughts.

Robb Stark was looking at him. Well, he was looking down on him with lidded eyes. 

Theon was supposedly sleeping but he opened his eyes and stared back, trying to figure out what Robb’s staring meant. Was it love? Lust? Need? He missed him but saw him again every night since he got back to Pyke and the Iron Islands; and this time was not different, Robb’s expression was just harder to read. Theon just got to the favorite part of his dream, now is when Robb takes his hand (or what’s left of it) and kisses his knuckles letting out a soft chuckle against the skin. Sometimes in his dream Theon is the cocky Theon and sometimes the Reek Theon, but in his mind he’s always this Theon, the one that knows better. _“What took you so long? Stubborn bastard”_ his lover would say. 

“I apologize for the unexpected visit, Lord Theon” he says instead.

 _“No”_ Theon reflects, starting to get actually confused: _“Robb never called me a Lord, and this definitely isn’t my dream of death. If it were, we would be kissing by now”_. They would be kissing, and Robb would be touching him with legitimate love and care, he would praise whatever body he is supposed to have in the afterlife, and would make him moan by touching whatever is in between his legs. He would tell him _“I love you Theon, now and fucking always”_ , and then he would say _“I forgive you, and my kisses will clean our sins.”_

“Fucker” he responds, head messed up because of the numbness after waking up and sleeping so long, “How could you stay so young for years?”

A better question popped up in his mind: _“How the fucks are you alive?”_ But it would not leave his mouth just yet, it was stock because the answer could be painful and Theon was done with pain for this lifetime. Besides, that was a harsh way of starting a conversation with the person you have loved all your miserable life, wasn’t it?

“Maybe I’m dead after all” Theon concludes. A weird version of his favorite imaginary death, yeah, but dreams are never really accurate. They would never be accurate to death either, is not like he has any idea of how it is like, Jon never tells. The other guy looks kind of surprised… he said it out loud right? Nice! Now he was thirsting over a 17 year old version of his crush and the kid (Robb) knew. He probably was a depressive sight. Old, confused and lost as fuck.

Then, regaining composure, Robb raises an eyebrow. He has a cocky posture and that’s definitely not Robb’s, is more like his old self, Theon’s that’s it.

He was an incarnation of Robb Stark, but for a carbon copy he was quite not right. A sharper jaw, cheekbones less defined, softer looking skin, a stronger nose with much more character and, unlike his Robb whose eyes were gentle and as blue as his house of sea and sand, this one had two brown eyes full of curiosity and slight innocence, slight mischief. Aside of that, the hair was one or two shades darker, and the smirk was so out of place for Robb’s sweet face that this kid was surely not him even in Theon’s naughtiest dreams.

Or maybe Theon just couldn’t remember well enough, he was so fucking old for the life expectancy everyone thought he had. That always made him uneasy, why was he alive after all? Fuck his luck. Even his dearest sister was deep in the sea by now and, at the moment, his only person left (well, memory of a person, but whatever) was losing the clarity of his image inside his imagination. 

But Theon remembered Robb’s hair perfectly, the type of red that resembles fire, like Caitlyn freaking Stark’s, shining intensely during the coldest and foggiest night that could ever exist. The flame of a lighter in the middle of darkness. It guide him like a compass when he felt lost; he just imagined how soft it must have been to the touch, and remembered how curly and thick it looked, and then he could calm down, being able to see the way out of anything thanks to his sparkle. Hate to admit it, but Robb’s hair was so Robb it was almost a therapeutic way to find himself back home, drowning in the peaceful coziness and familiarity. And his eyes were so impossible to forget; they could reveal any feeling Robb was trying to keep deep down or let die down. Theon knew him so well that just a little glance could tell him everything about the Stark: He was sad, he was disappointed, he wanted him to shut up, he wanted him to be happy, he hated him, he loved him. Like a brother, that is. But he knew him so well he could recognize the shine and the purest blue that none man after him had have. So yeah, even if he was old and losing his mind plus memory, those two things kept the Stark being unforgettable, and kept yelling at him _“This ain’t Robb, Theon!”_

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Are those the manners Ned Stark taught you? I’m kind of disappointed with this first impression, at least for now, Lord Theon.”

So, _“he won’t tell you anything unless you play your part as a Lord”_ , Theon was so tired of games and formalities. “Then I apologize, Lord…?”

“Lord Stark”

 _“So he is a Stark”_ Theon stared at him, of course, the Stark’s house emblem made of silver was shining from his chest. Right, maybe Sansa’s? Bran’s? Whose son is this? A bastard that came to avenge his old and almost forgotten betrayal? He cannot be Arya’s, her hair was never red to begin with, and Rickon is a heartbreaking discarded possibility.

The kid stares at him in the same way he is doing with the younger, all smart eyes that don’t know whether to trust him or be an asshole. “Future Lord of Invernalia, that’s me”  
“Future Lord? Is this Sansa’s first born?”

Theon never knew who Sansa married. They never saw each other again after peace, and communication was hard when one was so busy keeping a House going. Not that Theon could ever relate. The Gregjoy’s head was Yara, and after she passed, Theon’s adorable and sanguinary nephew. He actually loved that kid. Scratch the “only person left” line, his nephew was the third being that attached him to Westeros and being alive.

“Do I look like Sansa, my Lord?” His smirk came back, all lips, teeth and cockiness.

 _“You look more like me, what my first born would have been like, if I had had the Stark genes in me to begin with”_. “Kind of, red haired little kid full of pride, is more like childish and innocent Sansa used to be before the war.”

“Well, my father is Robb Stark sir; I’m his first and only son. I’m the heir of the Stark’s house and the soon to be King in Invernalia.”

And something hurt deeply inside Theon, his rotted heart that used to beat pretending to be a normal one, was melting away because of a personal feeling of betrayal. That son of a bitch got married, yes, but that son of a bitch also had a kid? That’s something he never heard of. He knew Robb took her virginity and with that decided to marry her, not that there was a baby involved. Did they keep this information purposely from him? Everyone surely knew, Bran, Arya, Jon, Sansa, Robb’s wife who lived with them all, northerns and ironborns, and definitely his own sister and nephew. 

“Robb’s huh? And what is the reason behind this unexpected visit, if I may ask?” He started getting up from bed, Theon wasn’t going to look like a pathetic man even if he was in some sort of way, not in front of this little nightmare “If my Lord came to avenge his father, is really not my direct fault he died and it’s already too late. Some of us make mistakes we really regret, Stark, and our heads pay the price; but some of us pay the price with the head still on. It feels like being stuck in eternity while remembering”.

“I’m not here for that”

“How could your highness even enter the castle?”

“Your nephew let me in: young Lord Gregjoy” Right, young, a 17 year old fucker with better abilities than he ever had or wished for during his own younger years. “I explained my situation and he understood perfectly, encouraging me to visit”

“Nice to meet the Stark’s heir, then” Nice one, asshole. His nephew may be in charge but he was going to hear from him, at least he was respectful and cared for his elders and family, like Yara always did. Still, is kind of humiliating having to get the Robb-has-a-kid news without a previous psychological preparation for it, because now Theon felt as if the gods were laughing at his face. He was heartbroken, that’s a fact, but he was good at faking and never lost that capacity. “As my Lord knows, I’m Lord Theon Gregjoy. What brought a Stark here?”

The kid shakes the hand Theon’s been offering him. “I heard a lot about you but never got the chance to meet you, I wanted to do so now”.

“And how old are you, if is not inadequate to ask, my Lord?”

“19”

“Why would my Lord wait so long to come see me if just talking is what he wants?” His own nephew, when he discovered the attack on his mother by uncle Euron years prior, went straight to his cell and (at 13 years old) took his head after a cold interrogation. 

“I was not allowed, and I didn’t think it was worth to meet you and make mother upset when I had other things that were a priority” He explained, still half smiling. His expression was so Theon, yet his respect for the rules and his mother’s opinion was so Robb it sent chills down his spine. How, if he never met his own father, could he be raised as him?  
Theon focused his gaze on the child’s (no, man’s) curls, they didn’t look as soft. “And what changed your mind?”

He stopped saying his ridiculously impersonal “Lord” and addressed him directly, it fed him up, and the Stark was speaking to him without said formality.  
“My mother died and Sansa is still the queen in Invernalia. I had no responsibilities or impediments to come and see you for now.”

His mother died. With Jeyne dead Theon wouldn’t even find Robb available in heaven or wherever. Fantastic! That woman always got him first. And it may sound like a really cold trail of thinking, but sue him; he couldn’t care any less about a woman he met about three times at the beginning of a war in which he lost the love of his life and his own self. 

“Why would you want to see me if you don’t seek revenge?”

“Because I never met my father, my Lord, and my mother may had resentments towards you, but I do not. I’ve learned of peace and war, love and betrayal, and the worst time can bring up the worst of us. I wanted to see my father somehow, and you keep him alive in your soul, or so uncle Jon and aunt Sansa always say.” 

Theon knows if he starts talking he won’t be able to stop. He doesn’t want to be soft, he doesn’t want to cry and he doesn’t want to share his Robb with anyone. “And why couldn’t they tell you about him?”

“They knew him when they were children, but they knew very little of him once he became a Lord, all of them were in different places. And so they can’t really remember who he was in his final moments, or who he was at all”. He was beautiful. And he was his Robb, but is this kid’s Robb too.

After a small and quite debate inside his head; egoistical reasons losing against the chance of finally talking about that who he loved the most, Theon decided to talk. He patted the space besides him while sitting on the bed “And what do you want to know?”

“What type of King was him?”

“He was kind” Theon began, Robb was always kind. “He cared about his men, made the effort to know them and be more than just a leader. But he still had great leadership; he knew how to be a Lord, he knew how to gain respect, how to be reasonable, convincing, loved, but he was still always an authority”.  
Robb’s son didn’t seem convinced, maybe he didn’t get it. “He would put this voice of his, all strong and deep; it was a voice you couldn’t deny anything. It was really funny to me because His Grace would put said voice and then go back to his normal self when we were alone together.”

 _“You don’t need to call me Your Grace when nobody is here”_ Robb explained, shy smile reflected on his eyes.

A raised eyebrow was his only answer. “He didn’t like killing, but he did what had to be done. And when we were fighting he was always thankful for his men’s sacrifice, and calculating of the safest way for us to go. Once he got really mad at me – and we practically never fought –, for saving Bran without considering what could have gone wrong. He always took in his mind all possibilities”.

“If he was so smart, I must ask, why was he betrayed? By the Frey’s, I mean.”

“Because he was so kind, my Lord, so kind he couldn’t say no and he couldn’t let other people be hurt. He was naïve and he never saw that as a weakness. I’m sure he loved your mother dearly but he also wanted to help her. At least that’s what I was told.”

The kid’s gaze hardened “Love is not the right answer in that case, he never really loved her”

Something boiled low inside Theon, some anger for the insolence and certain relief for the idea of them not really loving each other – not like he loved Robb –, but he would never know for sure. He never saw Robb in the eyes when he married her, he never knew what he felt by the words on his pupils and ocean irises. “If he didn’t love her, why would he sacrifice his life?”

“He shouldn’t have married her; it would have protected us as a whole. He could have married the Frey’s girl and after winning the War claim my mother as a wife as well.”

“He loved your mother, not the Frey’s girl”

“He is a King before he is a man. He serves his men before he loves one girl.”

How naïve. Again, as if love worked like that. That may have been what Theon would have told Robb if he were with him instead of his horrendous father. Or maybe he would not have said a thing because he loved Robb so much his happiness was worth any prince. He would have given even his own head for Robb’s sake. But he didn’t do so at the right moment. “Your father was too kind, he didn’t want your mother to suffer” And then he remembered the way they treated Jon when they thought he was a bastard, and shame painted his cheeks a rosy tone. He looked more alive and youthful than ashamed. “He didn’t want you to be born a bastard, and her to be treated like human scum.”

“But he risked her life. While being pregnant she had to run away or we could have died in the Red Wedding. What kind of love puts your life in such a risk?”

“Real love” Theon snorts, and laughs a little higher than he’s used to. “Real love makes you do nonesense” _“Just look at me, talking about this with you.”_

“He got her pregnant, I would dare to say he did not even love us, maybe he just owed us.”

“I find it quite disrespectful for you to come in my bedroom and think and talk so low of your father, who is My Grace, in front of me, my Lord.”

Now, referring to Robb as a grace was something Theon found meaningful to do since he betrayed him and closed that chapter (basically when he and Yara got Pyke back from freaking Euron); on the other hand, referring to his son as a Lord was somehow funny. Such a young person with already more political power than himself (a Lord as well), yet so easy to shut up. The kid’s face got red, all of a sudden, with the realization that he was behaving foolishly. Or maybe because he knew he was young, and being young meant knowing the rules by heart, while older people knew how love could erase said rules, for good or bad.

“He lost his siblings – he thought he did –, and he found in your mother a safe space. You were born out of that trust and safety” Theon would have never been able to create from their trust, their home or their love, and those three were all broken by his betrayal anyways.

“I have to agree then. Excuse my previous behavior; it was of poor taste Lord Theon.”

With a movement of his hand Theon dismissed it “And, even if he did as you said, wouldn’t Frey still try to kill him once he leaves his daughter? That’s is a big offence for a father and a Lord”

“If it wasn’t for the Boltons he wouldn’t have thought of it. Or he would, but he wouldn’t have done it anyways.”

The Boltons. Theon shivered without wanting to. He could not remember Ramsay’s face anymore, but his hands, scars, mutilations and triggers were always a reminder. He dreamt of Robb to keep the nightmares away, and now even though he had a Stark almost like his Robb by his side, he still felt affected. Somehow. “I would rather you not bring their names in this conversation again.” 

“Oh” the teen shows certain sympathy in his eyes. Not pity, just sympathy. Nobody pitied a traitor, and nobody pitied a war survivor when everyone had lost something during the war. “I’m sorry. However it is true that it was mainly their fault, so I’m thankful they were killed.”

“When you’ve seen death so often, my Lord, I can assure you that someone dying is never the end of it. Memories keep the dead alive.”

The Stark got red again, this time only in the tip of his ears.  
“What type of brother he was?” He continued, after a shaky intake of breath, changing the topic.

Theon feels like this is the most complicated question out of all he could think of. He would like to answer to _“What type of lover he was?”_ because he would have loved to discover it forever, but this brotherhood would always be what he is attached to.

“He was so peaceful and caring” 

The child giggles, “Peaceful, as if”

“Is true my Lord, he never wanted his younger siblings to fight, and he always kept Jon and me away so we wouldn’t break each other’s necks or noses”

Fuck. 

Robb was always so nice it had been impossible for Theon not to love him. When he first arrived, the always kind and caring Robb introduced himself as his new best friend and brother. He would make sure Theon would have dinner even if they had fought, and he would insist on Theon to get his wounds checked every time they fell while playing; Robb liked to take care of him as if he was older and stronger and Theon was precious. Maybe they were. Robb did think so. Theon was not ok with this at first, because he was not to be protected and he was not at all familiar with this feelings and attention unless it was coming from his mother, who did that because she was his family and they had to love each other. And Theon was scared of himself when he realized he was thinking of Robb as somehow family, or someone worth starting a family with, that he chose to love.

Robb would, while they were children, tell him story tales that his mother or Old Nan narrated him the night prior because Theon, even if older, never got the chance to hear any stories in a house full of “the most masculine men”. While teenagers, Robb would ask how was his day and listen to his own stories with an encouraging smile, pleased that he gets Theon to talk about deeper and more interesting stuff than the jokes and sex anecdotes he would tell everyone. And when they were at war, and when Robb was having a hard time, and when they were starving and stressed and tired, Robb would still hold him like a big brother instead of the youngest of them, and say calmly _“Thank you for being here, Theon”._

So, he started to describe these little things about Robb: how he helped him and his sibling, how he always obeyed his parents and elders, how they did antics but Robb never threw him under the bus, how he was loyal, fun to be around, willing to listen and a peace maker. How he cared of him like no one ever showed him it was possible. 

“Are you taking me for a fool, Lord Theon?” At some point the visitor asked, frowning with impatience. Theon wondered what had made him mad. “Is impossible to be such perfect friends and then for you to betray him, just like that.”

“Oh no, it’s not, it makes perfect sense” Theon felt like laughing, but he didn’t laugh, he could not. He wanted to find his stupidity satirical, but the ending their friendship got was just tragic. “Your father was so amazing I took him for granted. And then there was my own father, who thought of me as nothing meanwhile for yours I was such a matured incredible man, brother and friend. Balon would say I was not a Gregjoy anymore, because I was now Robb’s and Ned’s bitch, a traitor: the fake Stark who wanted to be one of them so badly. I admit sometimes I wanted to, and I may have felt really messed up when Robb explicitly told me I was not and would never be. But unlike Robb’s or Ned’s, I never had my father’s approval, and I never got his love, and I had your father’s for so long that I was used to it and didn’t value it enough. And I took the hardest option to please, because I thought of myself as the best shit out there. I was wrong. I can admit that, is sad that I was so stupid.”

“Was it pride? What motivated you?”

“It was being love starved. And my father had me starving for so long I would have done everything. Love can fuck you up or heal you, but either way it hits really hard.”

“Did you love my father?”  
Something warm brushed against his knee, and it took Theon a while to realize it was Robb son’s skin against his. He was as warm as the wolf’s fur his father always wore, and he was staring at Theon deeply with those brown beautiful but not Robb’s eyes. “You talk so much about love I cannot stop wondering if you loved him… or if you do.”  
What can he say then? Can he lie when the image of Robb is so close to being real and is brushing against his knee? Theon found himself stupid, thirsting over a memory again. 

“I do. Now and always”

The younger man then stares at the floor, concentrated, smile or anger absent, a whole new expression for Theon to decipher. “How can you say it so freely?”

“How could I be scared of saying it? I loved and failed him, I owed him my honesty.”

“I don’t even know if I, his own child, love him at all”

“You didn’t meet him” Theon says, gazing at his hands for a split second. Sometimes he can imagine his absent finger, and a silver ring around it, making him Robb’s like he always wanted. He knew, deep down, it was something that would have never happened, but let the sleepless dream. “If you did, you would love him like everyone else does.”

He touches the knuckles, where Robb’s imaginary kisses were always left. It had been hard, falling for him and realizing what that meant, but it had been harder to keep living without him and realizing he was never coming back. And so the kisses were always going to be imaginary, like they’ve always been in the past. 

“I don’t think my mother did. Love him, I mean. Not as much as Eddard Stark, Catelyn Tully, uncle Jon, aunt Sansa, uncle Brandon, aunt Arya, uncle Rickon or you did. I think she forgot about him, she loved him once but it was so strong and so fast it faded eventually” Robb’s son said, looking behind Theon’s blurry eyes and straight into his conflicted thoughts.

“I suppose you think really low of your father if you believe his effect on people can just fade away”

“It did on her. I know it. She wanted to remarry; I could see it in her eyes. She wanted to meet another man to love and care for, that would raise me and accept me, and would swear to protect us like my dad promised. But she couldn’t.”

“Because she loved Robb”

“No, because no one wanted her when there were Sansa and Arya, way more of a Stark than she would ever be. And King Robb did that to us. He gave me a name to protect us both, but he took away her husband and my father in exchange.”

 _“But what did he take from me?”_ Theon questioned himself, keeping silence. “He didn’t take my chance to love, Stark, I chose to love him even if that wouldn’t take me somewhere.”

“You do not choose who to love, Lord Theon, it was not your fault.”

“Then it was not his fault either that you and your mother ended up where you are now. No more complaints, please.”

Silence fell over their shoulders. _“Please”_

Theon used to cry himself to sleep like a little kid during his teenage years, when he was 16 and head over heels for a 14 year old way less mature than him. _“Please make it stop”_. He knew he couldn’t control his feelings, he fucked every girl in Invernalia and as many as he could all around Westeros to fuck Robb out of his system and it never worked. He liked them all but he loved none, he only loved Robb. Because when he came back home Robb was laying in his bed, ready to hear the whole story, and Theon wanted to kiss him until Robb’s scent gets imprinted on him. Until he became finally his. But he did make the choice to love him now and always. Not other man, not other woman he would fuck or marry would ever replace Robb and he swore to the Drowned and the Seven Gods that his fucked up heart would be Robb’s even if he stops believing in gods after all.

“I came because I hate him. I have no reason to do so but I still hate him. He died and it was not even his fault but he left me and my mother alone. And he died and everyone talks of him as a hero and I would never understand why because he never got anywhere and I never saw him once, he died at the beginning of the freaking War and I was not even 4 months old inside my mother yet. And I wanted – no –, I want to stop hating him but sometimes I feel like I can’t. I don’t know who I’m supposed to be. I don’t even know what he looked like.”

“Maybe you are right and you can’t choose who to love, and you can’t force yourself to love him kid, but you can choose not to hate.”

After that speech or discussion, Theon remembered one old book he had in an especial box under his bed, one book that may not change anything but that had Theon’s heart impregnated all over it and somehow Robb’s too. The box had fungus because of its old age and also the humid weather in the Iron Islands, but the inside was clean and the books and notes were clean as well. Theon knew his nephew cleaned them because he _cared_. In the middle a candle, half used, half gone. Theon took the whole thing and put it on the top of his bed, then, carefully taking what seemed to be a notebook of leather, he counted sixteen pages without licking his finger and opened it; showcasing a handsome young man with his face full of details and the reddish curls fading their lines. 

Next to him, Robb’s son lost his breathing, surprised while looking at the realistic portrait. Theon pushed the drawing towards him, “Did you do it?” The young heir asks.

“I wish. I bought it from an artist at Invernalia back when we were leaving and the War just began. I’ve wrote many notes and memories in the last pages, but the majority of this little book is full of drawings of the Starks. Surprisingly accurate.”

He could still picture himself that day, searching in a hurry for something to write everything on and going around the small market, trying to find it. When he got to a shop where a girl was working next to a chubbier man, he saw the guy’s book covered by old but strong leather and was showed at least seven notebooks resistant enough with the same cover. When he was about to buy one, he caught the other man staring and had a glimpse at what he was drawing. Definitely Theon’s profile. Firstly slightly panicking and trying to control his feelings of discomfort, Theon insisted on seeing it. And when he was given the notebook with shaky hands, he realized what a talented fucking artist he just bumped into, who painted beautiful sketches of the Starks, and mostly him and Robb who were out more often. Theon wasn’t the nicest, but he paid for the whole thing with a gigantic smirk and a good overprice. He was excited, and Robb was immortally captured in his hands now.

“Is that really him?” The child doubts, surprised. Usually the Starks were sculpted in the Winterfell’s crypt, where their bodies rested; but Robb’s son never got to see what his dad looked like because of what they did to his body during the War, nothing and no one left as reference to sculpt from. “We look so alike…” 

“This is why I confused you both when you first arrived and I had just woken up. But he did have brighter hair, bluish eyes and some softer characteristics than you do, my Lord. Besides, he was definitely less cheeky.”

Robb’s son got red once again. He could be really polite and mature, but the older man got him blushing like a little kid being scolded. It was amusing. “I never knew he looked like me, he was so young when he died.”

“Life can be really unfair sometimes” Theon caressed the image with his finger, so lightly it wouldn’t brush the actual paper and ruin the charcoal. “He was amazing, if you had met him, I promise you, you’d have loved him.”

“I wish I had, met him I mean”

“Lord Stark?”

“Yes, Lord Theon?”

“Would you like to see some other drawings? There must be a younger Sansa somewhere”.

“Sure, I would be really pleased with that sight” he laughed, softly.

While passing the pages, Theon was met with joyful Sansa, a petty Rickon (oh, another immortal child), a curious Bran, a clumsy Arya and even a grumpy Jon. And then he saw Robb, in all possible actions, angles and gestures: Over a horse, laughing with him. Drinking with him. Punching him, fucking tease. And he could even see the not so well done drawing, by a trembling and anxious hand with bad pulse that tried to define two shapes somehow hugging in the middle of a darkness made by charcoal.  
“This one… this one is yours, isn’t it?”

“Yeah” he admitted, it was obvious by the lack of detail “I made it the previous day to my departure, and I took it with me in case I needed strength. His Grace held me that day in a hug, told me he trusted me and wished me the best.”

 _“Now and always Theon”_ Robb had said, waving at him as he got farther by horse, and Robb became only a silhouette. He couldn’t have known then that it was their last time seeing each other. None could know, and none could properly say goodbye. _“Don’t disappoint me, you asshole!”_

But Theon did anyways.

He wanted to keep his hands to himself and control his impulse, but Theon had already told this kid that he was in love with his father, he was already being vulnerable and he had to do something. He took his fingers to his mouth, left a kiss in two of them together and finally touched the last drawing with said fingers. _“Robb, how much do I fucking love you?”_

 _So, so much_. “You can keep it, if you want, my Lord”

“I would really love to” he answered, excited like a real toddler for a new toy, or like Arya when she was allowed to train with the boys. “But I have to refuse, this is yours by right.”

Theon knew it, but he didn’t need multiple pieces of paper to remind him how much love he held in his heart for Robb “I know, but I’m going to die any day, and this is going to go to waste while you have so many years yet to come and are struggling with a father you never met.” He closed the book and put it back in the box: “Here I have some papers with other doodles and anecdotes, some are only mine but I can’t really remember that person anymore. So please, take it.”

 _“Please”_ That was how Theon asked the Drowned God and the Seven Gods for Robb to survive, _“Please tell me Ramsay is lying”, “Please tell me he's alive”, “Please take me instead”_. _“Please”_ and that was when he was 19 and still in love, and he accepted his fate without changing his habits, but still deep down asked the gods for his only wish _“Please make him love me back”_ that slowly became hopeless _“At least a little, in the same way that I love him”_. And when he betrayed him it transformed into _“Please, don’t let him hate me”_ or _“Should he hate me, I don’t deserve his love”._

Now, with Robb’s kid taking the box with him and going back home, Theon could only ask _“Please let him love Robb, let they all love him like he deserves, now and always and to never be forgotten”._


	2. And summer came

They talked for two months after his visit. When Theon took him to the beach, and saw the heir of Invernalia and Winterfell getting in the boat, he asked the stupidest yet most essential question: “What’s your full name, my Lord?”

“I’m Lord Edward Robert Stark, heir of Invernalia”

And Theon suppressed his laughter. Robert like the tragic Robert Baratheon, and Robb like Robert’s name. Surely Jeyne thought she did something before actually realizing that instead of inventing a name in honor of her deceased husband she was repeating the name that inspired Robb’s father to call him Robb. But it was still nice that they chose the first name in honor of Ned as well. Theon just waved goodbye.

After that, he went straight to his nephew’s castle and ended up discussing with the minor for not notifying him that Lord Edward Robert Stark was 1. In the fucking Iron Islands looking for him, and 2. His best friend and long time impossible lover’s son. His nephew only laughed, before calling him bitter and old, and hitting Theon playfully in the back with more strength than needed. Of course, he picked that gesture from Yara, and he picked drawing and writing from Theon, but he would never admit that to his uncle. Furthermore, Theon couldn’t do any of those things since long time ago, but Yara’s teenage son saw his box full of notes and knew just what love meant by reading a few. He couldn’t wait to feel it.

The first month the letters were few but long, and Theon made an effort to answer all the questions spilled on them. Edward was going to claim the throne once Sansa resigned, probably after she had her baby, because for now she was at the beginning of a pregnancy. And if she took her time as the Queen, at this point Edward really thought “whatever”.  
Jon sent him a letter as well, unexpectedly, thanking him for “talking some sense” into his nephew, who was suddenly more confident in his tactics and relationships with the Lords of Invernalia. Theon would never have guessed, looking so confident already the first and only time he saw him, but Jon wrote “He’s always been really insecure, like I once was. Like you once were. He didn’t fit and he never met Robb, who made him a Stark, so he didn’t feel like a Stark at all”. And when finished reading, it all hit him right in the gut; that even if that child was not his in any way, he somehow helped him, he somehow made the story also his. 

During the second month, the letters were more and Theon answered them all, because his instincts were kicking in and alerting him he had to. He felt the time ticking his clock; and with each letter answering a question, telling with full details a story, and talking about Robb, the Starks, Pyke, Yara and his nephew…, he felt like he was giving little pieces of himself away.

_“You have to” Robb told him in his dreams, more than once: “Let more people remember you, let more people know about us and understand.”_

Edward understood. He replied with excitement and kept Theon up at nights laughing about the young man’s discoveries and descriptions of the life in Winterfell: “How can aunt Sansa be still so intimidating even when her belly seems like it will explode? And it’s only been five months!”

“How was uncle Rickon like? They say that when I was a child I would remind everyone of him. Should I take it as a compliment?”

“Do you think Caitlyn would have liked me? I know she disliked you, but mother said she disliked her and uncle Jon more, so I don’t know what to think of her right now.”

“Is it possible that you were father’s favorite? Uncle Jon insists he was, but I doubt that!”

“Was uncle Brandon always this intelligent? I’m amusedly impressed by his smartness, but aunt Arya claims he’s out of his mind most of the time, is that a disrespectful myth? An inside joke? Or a fact?”

“Why ‘Robert’? Everybody blushes or laughs when I ask, wasn’t it in honor of my father?”

“Was Ned a good father figure to you and uncle Jon as well? He said my father was just like him. Do you believe we would have gotten along?”

“Did you want kids Theon? Would you have married my father if the war hadn’t begun? Please tell me the truth; I will express no judgment to your answer.”

“I don’t know in which world or way we are related. But I’m thankful we are. They say I’m just like my father in that sense. He was fond of you and thankful too.”

And Theon would repeat Edward’s stories or his own to his nephew, who when not busy, liked hearing about the War and this times of peace. He hated everything about the battles with Euron and the Bastards, because of what both meant to his uncle and mother, but he was always willing to listen more about the smartest Tyrell siblings, the Baratheon messy relationships, the incestuous and thankfully mostly dead Lannisters, the Targaryean affairs that once started a war, and all the nonsense that Edward Stark and his family went through daily. “Would you have married my father?” _“Yes, I would have married him if he asked, and I would have followed him to the end of the fucking world. But this is me now talking, we would never know if I would have chosen the same or another thing, as heartbroken as that decision could have gotten me”._

Lately, without his old family in the way, Theon felt freer to talk about the Starks, the memory of his sister, his old friend Jeyne Poole and Robb with his nephew. Robb, who once was his everything and is even now his most important wish and desire. His love felt more pure, too, something to be proud of.

This were different times, peaceful years, and the winter was over; far, far away. 

Now it was time for the longest summer (Theon hoped), finally the breeze carried salt and the smell of fish was everywhere, just how Theon always wanted. And when he was homesick, he would tell Robb: _“When summer arrives, we are going to the sea; you will feel its fragrance and the sand in your thighs and your feet, while the waves take us home. To my home this time. You will fucking love it, Robb”_. And he was a fool then, he knew, he was annoying and a fool; but he had prayed for it to happen for so long, that when it came – even without Robb’s presence next to his –, summer felt like a new start. 

In the third day of the third month, Theon got sick. So sick his nephew was forced to stay away because it was too risky for the Head of the Gregjoy house and the Pykes to be there, while doctors and witches from different places of Westeros tried to cure his uncle. Theon would spend most of his day sleeping, an hour or two awake, a few minutes lucid if it was a lucky day. And he was slowly dying of something nobody understood. However, there was something reassuring in being ill and in deathbed. 

He got to see Robb more often, more times than he had seen him since they had been drifted apart by fate, violence and wrong decisions. Robb could tell him his own long stories every time, and they laughed and teased each other, and it would never end. Robb would tell, and he would kiss his knuckles, brush his sometimes white and sometimes pitch black hair, wrap him in his arms, press butterfly kisses across his chest, hold his hands, lick his fingers when he had them, and move inside of him like he always wished they could touch. This time Theon was drifting from death to life, and starting to feel the second as a dream instead of the former. 

Sometimes logic gets Theon to ask, so while melting in Robb's caressing hands and hugs he asks _"Why me?"_ Because honestly, why him?  
Theon has loved the Stark's oldest sibling all his life in the north, and somehow he can't remember well how love was before, during his childhood in the Pykes. Because the love for his family was different, sometimes kind of forced and sometimes really pure, but with Robb was so natural he just couldn't remember a before.  
However Robb got married, and Robb had a child, and Robb was going to have a life without Theon if he was not killed, and he could always remember what love felt like. So why him? 

Robb tends to hush him when he starts asking, because Theon frowns a lot when he thinks about that, and even in his younger body Robb says it's still an ugly look on his face. But when Theon finally gets an answer _"Because who would I rather spend an eternity with?"_ it takes all of his willpower not to cry in the spot or jump over Robb like an over excited child. 

And then they start kissing again, and cuddling against each other, and even if there is literally nothing else to do in the meantime than enjoy each other companies (no archery, no eating, no getting out - out of where? -) Theon believes is still way better than what he thought he was gonna get once he passed... all Ramsay Snow memories and his father and siblings laughing at him. 

One day, Robb says, they will figure out how the hell to go somewhere else, but for now they are trapped in the best prison available, both have to agree.

Dying in his never lover but eternal true love’s chest, legs tangled and lips swollen, felt like the paradise Theon thought he would never feel or deserve. And Theon died full of such an indescribable happiness that he cried of relief in his sleep, taking Robb’s hand palm in palm outside of the room. Finally walking out that fucking door, and guiding Robb to the water. The ideal summer he always promised, the summer they always wished for.


	3. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is super dumb in my opinion but i still find it cute so, hope y'all really like it, even if it's foolish.  
> Also, I couldn't stop myself with the name thing, it was n e c e s s a r y .

The following days were of mourning, and like all the Gregjoys, his nephew organized Theon’s funeral to be traditional for the ironborns. But, before finally letting him rest and go, he took from Theon the kraken insignia the late always kept since he and Yara won Pyke back from Euron. Theon left his own when Ramsay forced him to, and he got it back when he was raised from the dead state of Reek and saved his sister from their uncle, finally being born again as a Gregjoy. So now, resting in a different death but actually peaceful, one last thing had to be done for the young Sir of the Pykes to be satisfied with his uncle’s departure. 

With his right hand in charge (the most trustworthy woman he has ever met besides his mother), Yara’s son made a trip to Invernalia, Winterfell. 

With Kraken in between his fingers, riding on the back of a horse, he forced his way inside and asked to see the heir Lord Edward Robert Stark.   
Surprised by the unexpected yet reasonable visit, instead of being as offended as Sansa and every northern expected him to be because of the audacity of the Iron born to come without notice; when the oldest second generation Stark saw the newcomer, he welcomed the Pykes leader with a soft hand shake and a warm smile. 

Although it was their second time seeing each other, and the first meant nothing more than five seconds of blatant flirting giving and taking, in order for Edward to get a free pass and see Theon, they can’t pretend they were not born for this to happen. It was such a contrast between two worlds; that the oldest of them felt in the colder and impassive eyes of a Gregjoy, son of the Iron Islands and the sea, the call of the winter hidden behind his flesh that smelled like salt. Meanwhile with just one look into a Stark’s eyes, the only Gregjoy left could understand how blue eyes can get you found and lost, like a boat adrift that is pulled by an anchor. How could the Starks be so magnetic with their pretty faces and expressive eyes?

And with uncle Jon by his side and aunt Sansa holding with sweetness her pregnancy belly, Edward entered the crypts with Theon’s nephew, in search of the new place were the young wolf rested. A statue of his own, based on the drawings Theon kept for years and finally gave Edward, showed a clean and beautiful image of Robb Stark with a hole in his chest full of emptiness. 

The Ironborn in the room takes the Kraken figure softly; it has a good size and a thin scratch across two of the tentacles. He kisses it meaningfully and steps back when it finally fits where Robb Stark’s heart was supposed to be. And it ends like that, when he realizes how happy his uncle can be right now, carried inside of the one he loved the most, and being shown as more than a traitor: a right hand and a soulmate. 

“I know my mother would be happy.” The oldest argued, looking at his guest’s profile “This seemed like humbug to some of my people, but I kept her ring in my father’s finger, because even if they were not meant to be, they were in love once.” Edward explained, when both him and the Gregjoy left were the only ones remaining in the crypt.

The youngest smirked “You would make her proud, Stark, and I just made mine disgusted by all the sentimentalism showcased today”

“I can’t imagine, Lord…?”

“Lord Theodore Gregjoy”

Edward snorts, and then he laughs really fucking loudly for being surrounded by dead bodies “Because of Theon?” 

“Oh, I was going to be called Balon Theon Maron Rodrik Gregjoy, but my uncle insisted in only one name, so mother just ended up choosing the most sensitive man out of the four” His smiled got wider “Then she said it was because Theon finally stood up for something he disliked, so he deserved a reward.”

“At least yours knew what she was doing when naming you”.

 

_“Please”_ whispered Theon, one last time, while he rests in Robb’s lap and has him caressing his waist, pecking the back of his neck, where is soft and tickles: _“Make it fucking work at least for once, don’t mess this, stupid gods!”_  
And his boyfriend just laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I have to go with the we-couldn't-but-our-children-will cliché and I know is really unrealistic but while creating the characters I really thought they would match romantically so why not. 
> 
> And THANK YOU very much if you got here, lots of love <3 <3 <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for getting here! Please keep reading for an ending (low key cheesy) + an epilogue


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